Nik stood up from the sofa on wobbly legs, a mug in hand, and walked unsteadily toward the kitchen to brew what was probably his fifth or sixth cup of coffee. The lack of sleep and constant intake of caffeine had given him a pounding headache, but none of that mattered compared to whatever deep trouble the mafia was in. It had been one situation after another, and the whole ordeal was wearing him down. Even though it was already late, he refused to sleep before properly analyzing everything from the beginning.
Having Alexei and Kelly had been a huge help, but as much as Nik trusted them, he knew this matter was too serious and complicated to rule anyone out as a suspect—even his right-hand man and confidant, or the one person he could call a friend… a sister, and the only female figure in his life. After all, it's always the ones closest to you—the ones you least expect, right?
So he kept digging, searching for clues even after Alexei and Kelly had left for the night.
As he made his way toward the kitchen, he didn't bother turning on the lights. He was accustomed to the darkness—he liked it, even. Besides, he knew every inch of the mansion by heart.
He reached the kitchen using only the soft glow of the moon seeping in through the windows and began brewing yet another cup.
Just as he was finishing, he heard footsteps.
_Dmitri_ he assumed.
Probably coming down for a late-night craving—or to check on him.
When the footsteps didn't head toward the kitchen, Nik figured he must be in the living room, looking over the documents while waiting for him. He could already picture the scowl on Dmitri's face, the lecture he'd get for staying up this late.
Sometimes he wondered who the older brother really was.
With some effort, Nik made his way back toward the dimly lit living room, expecting to see a familiar redhead.
Instead, he froze.
A familiar blonde stood there, bent over the scattered papers.
The very person he had been trying so hard to avoid.
For a brief moment, shock rooted him in place—but it was quickly replaced by irritation when he realized what Ash was doing.
"Ash?"
No response.
He tried again, sharper this time. "Ash?"
Still nothing.
Irritation flared into anger. One of the things Nik hated most was being ignored—and for some reason, this particular blonde seemed determined to push every single one of his buttons.
He strode forward and yanked Ash's arm.
Startled, Ash turned, eyes widening as he quickly pulled out his earpods and slipped them into his pocket.
Nik met his gaze—and for a moment, he forgot why he was angry.
Those familiar blue eyes, laced with confusion, held his attention longer than they should have. His gaze flickered—taking in Ash's face, lingering just a second too long on his lips.
Heat crept up his neck.
And then—
That night.
The memory hit him like a punch.
"Time has passed… so why does the thought of it still make me feel this way?" Nik wondered.
As if breaking a spell—
"Sir Nik? Is everything okay?"
Ash's voice snapped him back to the present.
Hard.
Nik dropped his hand from Ash's shoulder immediately, shoving everything else aside and clinging to the one thing that made sense—anger.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he snapped. "And why are you touching those documents?"
Ash blinked, caught off guard by the sudden outburst. He took a second to process before placing the papers he'd gathered onto the table and straightening up.
"I saw them scattered everywhere, so I thought I'd help pick them up."
"Those are confidential," Nik shot back. "You have no right to touch them."
"I was just trying to help. I didn't know they were top-secret or anything. I swear, I haven't read any."
"And who asked you to?" Nik pressed. "Dmitri? Since when is this part of your job description?"
"No," Ash said, a hint of frustration creeping in. "He didn't ask me to do anything. I came down to get a drink—I couldn't sleep. I saw the lights on and thought Dmitri might be here, but when I didn't find him and saw the papers on the floor, I figured I could at least clean them up."
A pause.
"Didn't realize my goodwill would be met like this."
"If you didn't see him," Nik countered coldly, "you could have just left without touching anything."
He didn't know if it was exhaustion or Ash himself, but something about this always felt… different. He wasn't usually this sharp, this reactive—but Ash had a way of getting under his skin like no one else.
Ash exhaled slowly, clearly trying to keep his composure.
"I'm sorry, Sir Nik," he said, lowering his head slightly.
"I meant no harm. Next time, I'll mind my own business."
He lifted his head again, his expression carefully neutral.
"I'll take my leave now. My presence here seems… unwelcome."
Nik didn't miss it—the flicker of something in his eyes.
And for some reason, that unsettled him more than the documents ever had.
It's just the lack of sleep, he told himself. That's all this is.
But the thought didn't sit right.
Unable to find anything to say, Nik settled for silence and a hard glare.
Ash took the hint.
He turned and started toward the stairs.
Nik watched him go.
And then—
His vision blurred.
His legs buckled slightly, and he barely managed to stay upright. The sudden movement caused hot coffee to spill over his hand.
"—tch!"
The sharp hiss didn't go unnoticed.
Ash turned instantly.
Within seconds, he was back at Nik's side.
"Are you okay?"
Before Nik could protest, Ash had already taken his hand, examining it carefully.
"It looks like a burn."
"I can see that," Nik snapped, trying to pull away. "Let go of my hand."
Ash didn't.
"Not yet."
Nik tried again—this time successfully.
"I can handle it."
He turned toward the kitchen, but his vision swam again—and before he could steady himself—
Ash was there.
One hand firm at his waist.
"What are you doing? Let me go," Nik said through gritted teeth. "I said I can handle it."
"No," Ash replied simply, tightening his hold. "With all due respect, Sir Nik—you can't."
"You're here to assist Dmitri, not me."
"And I'm very sure Sir Dmitri wouldn't be pleased if he found out his brother was unwell and I did nothing."
Nik opened his mouth to argue—
—but the pounding in his head surged, cutting him off completely.
"Sir Nik," Ash said more gently now, "we need to treat the burn. Then you need painkillers."
Nik didn't have the strength left to argue.
And if he was being honest—he didn't entirely want to.
With a quiet sigh, he turned his head away.
"…fine."
Ash caught it.
A small smile tugged at his lips. "Good."
He guided Nik slowly toward the kitchen, switching on the lights along the way so they wouldn't stumble in the dark. Once inside, he led him straight to the sink and turned on the tap, gently placing Nik's hand under the running water.
The moment the cool water hit the burn, Nik flinched, his jaw tightening.
Ash noticed immediately. Without thinking, he lifted Nik's hand slightly and blew over the irritated skin, soft and careful.
Nik's breath caught.
Heat rushed to his face, sudden and unwelcome.
"Sorry," Ash murmured. "Just bear with it for a bit."
He placed Nik's hand back under the stream.
After a few minutes, he turned off the tap and guided Nik to sit on a stool. Then he moved about the kitchen, searching through cabinets until he found what he needed—cling film and pain relievers.
Returning, he took Nik's hand again, more gently this time, examining the burn with quiet focus. Once satisfied, he wrapped it carefully before placing two ibuprofen tablets in Nik's palm and handing him a glass of water.
Nik took them without protest.
Ash dragged a stool over and sat opposite him, watching until he finished.
The moment Nik set the glass down, he pushed himself to his feet.
"I'm going upstairs." He said as he made his way toward the stairs, one hand dragging along the wall for support.
The medicine hadn't kicked in yet—his head still throbbed, his vision slightly unsteady—but staying here felt worse.
Being near Ash felt worse.
Ash sighed, folding his arms.
"Here we go again."
In a few quick strides, he moved ahead of Nik, flicking on the lights along the staircase before turning back to face him.
And then—without warning—
He scooped him up.
Nik froze.
It took his brain a full second to catch up.
"W—What are you doing? Put me down—now!" he snapped, gripping the front of Ash's shirt.
"No can do, Sir Nik," Ash replied calmly, adjusting his hold as he stepped onto the stairs.
He paused briefly, looking down at him.
Those blue eyes locked onto Nik's—steady, intent.
"I don't feel like arguing with you any further tonight," he said, voice lower now. "You're not well. I'm just helping you get where you need to go."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Think of it as… a free lift."
"But—"
"No buts."
Ash tightened his grip slightly, one arm secure beneath Nik's knees, the other supporting his back as he continued up the stairs.
"We've already started climbing," he added casually. "If you struggle too much, we might both fall. That wouldn't end well for either of us, don't you think?"
A beat.
"So save your energy."
Nik opened his mouth—
—and then closed it.
He didn't have the
strength.
Not for this.
With a quiet exhale, his grip on Ash's shirt loosened.
His eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. Before he realized it, he had leaned into Ash's chest, his body giving in as sleep began to pull him under.
Ash felt the shift immediately.
He glanced down.
Nik was asleep.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile crossed his face as he adjusted his hold, carrying him the rest of the way in silence.
By the time Ash reached Nik's door, he slowed to a stop.
He knew he'd have to set him down to open it.
But for a moment… he didn't.
Nik looked different like this—peaceful, unguarded. Softer than Ash had ever seen him.
Carefully, he spoke.
"Sir Nik… we're at your door."
A slight stir. No real response.
"Sir Nik," he tried again, quieter this time.
Nik's eyes fluttered open.
For a second, confusion clouded them—then recognition followed, and with it, a flicker of something else entirely.
His gaze met Ash's.
Ash watched every shift in expression, the way it settled into a familiar scowl.
"You can put me down now," Nik muttered.
"Of course."
Ash lowered him carefully to his feet, making sure he was steady before letting go.
"I'll be taking my leave now, Sir Nik," he said, giving a small nod as he turned to go.
"Thank you."
The words were quiet—barely above a whisper.
But Ash heard them.
He stopped.
Turned.
And stepped closer again.
"I'm sorry," he said lightly, tilting his head. "What was that?"
Nik's cheeks warmed.
"I said thank you," he repeated, this time meeting his gaze.
Ash's lips curved.
"Oh, I heard you the first time," he said, voice dipping just slightly. "I just wanted to see your face when you said it."
Nik's eyes flickered—briefly—to his lips.
And that was all it took.
Ash stepped closer.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The space between them shrank until there was barely anything left.
Nik didn't move.
Didn't step back.
Didn't stop him.
For a moment, it looked like Ash might close the distance completely.
Instead—
He leaned in, stopping just short of Nik's lips—
—and shifted toward his ear.
"You're welcome, Sir Nik."
His voice was low. Close.
Too close.
Then, just like that, he pulled away and turned, walking off down the hall as if nothing had happened.
Nik blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then quickly turned, fumbling slightly as he opened his door and slipped inside, shutting it behind him. He leaned back against it, breath uneven.
His mind replayed everything.
Ash's hand at his waist.
The way he'd blown on his burn.
Carrying him.
That moment just now—
For a second… he had thought—
And the worst part?
He wasn't sure he would have stopped him.
Not because he was tired.
But because—
Nik shut his eyes tightly.
"No," he muttered under his breath.
He pushed himself off the door and moved toward the bed, shrugging off the rest of his thoughts as he climbed under the covers.
The softness of the mattress eased the tension in his body, exhaustion settling over him once more.
But even as sleep began to take hold—
there was still a certain blonde, blue-eyed problem lingering in his mind.
And this time—
he didn't fight it.